


Winner Takes All

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Fic, M/M, Post-Het, Prompt Fic, Rift Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-29
Updated: 2012-11-29
Packaged: 2017-11-19 20:10:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/577185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilkes was Kate's opposite in every way—an experienced, successful criminal with an established crew and not an artistic bone in his body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winner Takes All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyrose42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyrose42/gifts).



> Post-Neal/Kate. Spoilers for 1.13 and 2.11. Thanks to mergatrude for beta.

"So. I'm your front man." Neal clinked his shot glass against Ryan Wilkes' and sat back in the velvet-lined booth. They were in an underground casino, in which Ryan apparently had VIP status, and they weren't gambling but Neal was having a very comfortable evening nonetheless: discreet seating, pleasing ambience and beautiful girls bringing them top-notch booze. It was a dozen steps up from Neal's humble apartment and street-scam existence. Maybe getting organized was the way to go. If he'd had all this, Kate never would have left him.

Ryan's smile was almost a leer. "You're my front man." 

"And no one gets hurt," said Neal. Ryan had already assured him the job didn't require violence, but it paid to confirm the terms and conditions before committing to a deal.

Ryan showed his teeth and draped his arm along the back of the booth so his hand hovered just above Neal's shoulder. "Not unless they ask real nice."

Neal licked his lips and transferred his gaze to the girl refilling their glasses. He had to be reading Ryan wrong. A queer crime boss? Surely his crew wouldn't tolerate that. "Half a mil. That's not a bad score."

"I always like to score big," said Ryan, and this time there was no mistaking the innuendo. Neal suppressed a double take. Interesting. Wilkes was Kate's opposite in every way—an experienced, successful criminal with an established crew and not an artistic bone in his body. His smile was wide open. 

Neal could feel himself smiling back. "Sounds like we've got a deal."

"Excellent." Every word Ryan spoke was undercut with irony. It was strangely charming. "So, how about we celebrate with a little competition. Winner takes all."

"You're on," said Neal recklessly. "Name it."

"You set me a challenge, I'll set you a challenge, we'll see what happens." Ryan leaned forward and lowered his voice. "You go first."

Neal hid an unexpected rush of self-consciousness. He'd messed around with guys before, but never this publicly, and _winner takes all_ might be ambiguous on the face of it, but scratch the surface and Neal's body was already quickening in anticipation. "Okay, but let's get out of here." 

They walked outside alone, no bodyguards, no girls. The parking lot behind the club was filled with sleek, expensive cars, and Neal happened to know Ryan had a history in vehicle acquisitions, so he picked out a late model Ferrari with a reputedly unbeatable state-of-the-art security system. "There's your challenge."

"Oh, come on," said Ryan, lazily amused. "You have to make it interesting. Give me a time limit."

"Five minutes," said Neal. He leaned against the wall of the club and slid his hands in his pockets.

Three minutes and seventeen seconds later, Ryan had the driver's door open, and Neal was so turned on by the competent efficiency involved that he had to discreetly adjust himself before he slid into the passenger seat. "Where are we going?"

Ryan just shot him a grin and put the car in drive, and Neal made a mental note to learn how to boost expensive cars. 

Ten minutes after that, they pulled up across the road from the Gansevoort, and Ryan said, "There's your challenge."

Neal raised his eyebrows. 

"You're the front man. Use that silver tongue of yours to get us a room." The dare was plain in Ryan's smile as well as his tone. "For free."

Neal's mouth was dry. He nodded. "No sweat."

He came back four minutes later with a key card, and Ryan looked as impressed as Neal had been in the parking lot. Ryan wiped the car for prints and they went inside, Neal half-swaggering, half-shaking, because this was like a heist, it was better than a heist, and he was definitely about to get laid, thank you, God. The charge in the air between them amped up with every floor the elevator passed. 

They still hadn't touched, and Neal wasn't sure what to expect, but he didn't really care that much. He was buzzed and drunk and horny. Kate had walked out a month ago, and right now he wanted to forget her, forget all of it and feel good again. Ryan gave him that. They fucked, drunk and a little rough, no kissing but plenty of lube, produced from Ryan's pocket as if he'd planned this all along. Hell, maybe he had. Maybe this was his standard initiation rite. Neal could get behind that. Or in front of it, in this case, technically speaking. He was the front man, after all.

 

*

 

When he woke, a bar of light was spilling across the carpet from the bathroom door, and it took him a few seconds to get his bearings. He was on rather than in a bed, in a hotel. He was mostly undressed, kind of sweaty, and his ass felt used but not in a bad way. He had the kind of shadowy hangover that would pass after a glass of water and a shower. And someone was talking on the other side of the room, by the window. Ryan. Neal sat up.

Ryan was on the phone, keeping his voice low. "Yeah, once you and Caffrey get the intel, get rid of them. I don't care, just make sure they're not around when the cops come knocking. Yeah, double tap. I'll be in tomorrow. We'll talk then." 

He hung up and started to turn back toward the bed. Neal lay down again, quick and silent, and pretended to be asleep, his thoughts racing. Anger and disgust chased bitter disappointment. He'd liked Wilkes. He'd honestly thought this might be the start of something—if not an ongoing physical relationship, at least a mutual professional connection. But Wilkes was just another conscience-free thug.

Mozzie might rattle on tactlessly about Kate's defection, but at least Neal trusted him not to pull this kind of bullshit, and in the end, that mattered more than charm or VIP status in underground bars. So, okay. New plan. Neal needed to extricate himself from the deal, he had to make sure Wilkes' crew didn't hurt the informants, Bill and Doreen Roscoe, and he had to get some payback for the let-down. 

First, he needed to get out of this room. The mattress tilted as Wilkes sat on the side of the bed. Neal stretched and opened his eyes sleepily. "Hey."

Wilkes leaned over him, gaze watchful and lascivious. He didn't seem suspicious. 

"So, who won?" said Neal.

"What are you talking about?" Ryan stripped his shirt over his head and lay down beside Neal, and for a moment, Neal was painfully tempted: he could sell out for this. It would almost be worth it.

Worth it to him, but the end of the line for the Roscoes, who okay, had agreed to sell information to a crime syndicate, but that didn't mean they deserved to die. "Our competition," said Neal. "We both rose to the challenge—"

"So to speak." Wilkes said slyly.

"Yeah." Neal forced a smile. "So—maybe we need a tie-breaker."

"What did you have in mind?" That dark, suggestive warmth. Ryan kissed his shoulder, and oh hell, he was going to kiss his mouth next, and then Neal would be sunk. Neal knew his own limitations. He had to get out _now_. 

He made a show of looking at his watch. "Damn! You know, I, uh, I have to get going. I have a meeting in half an hour—"

"It's late for a meeting." Ryan stopped nipping his way up Neal's neck. He lay back and put his hands behind his head, playing cool. 

Neal scrambled to his feet and started pulling on his pants. "This guy thinks he's nocturnal. He has delusions of Batman or something." He let the words babble out of his mouth. So what if Wilkes thought he was freaking out about the sex. Better that than suspecting the truth. "I really—we'll talk, okay? 

"Look forward to it." Wilkes was still on the bed, watching him. There was a gleam in his eye, and Neal couldn't tell if it was mockery or mistrust. "When you figure out the next stage of the challenge, you know I'll be up for it."

"You bet," said Neal brightly, and shut the door, wincing at his over-acting. He was almost to the elevators before he stopped and leaned against the wall, catching his breath. His orgasm buzz had soured, but that barely mattered. He was experiencing a new thrill: the heady kamikaze elation borne of the knowledge that he'd fucked a crime boss, and now he was about to rip him off for five hundred thousand dollars. 

He got in the elevator and texted Moz to meet him at his apartment. What would Kate think, if she knew. Would she hate him? Would she laugh? It didn't matter. She'd left him: he didn't owe her anything. Right now there was only one rule. "Winner takes all."

 

END


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